


Interior Design

by Marrilyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Double Entendre, Gen, Innuendo, Interior Decorating, Jack being Jack, Jack is a cinnamon roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27633445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: Rowena isn't happy about Dean's comments on her interior design.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Interior Design

"Rowena," Jack, the sweet boy that he was, said, "can I ask you something?"

The witch beamed at him, the way she always did. She couldn't help it; the boy was too kind, too lovely for his own good. Rowena wasn't too fond of children, but not even she was immune to his charms.

A few sweet words and a smile, and he'd instantly won her over.

She suspected it was no different with anyone else he encountered. For someone sired by Lucifer (rage filled her at the mere thought of the monster), he was impossibly precious.

"Of course," Rowena said. What harm was there in asking a question?

The nephilim looked left, then right, as if he were about to tell her a secret. Making sure Sam, Dean, and Castiel couldn't hear him (busy with returning all the books they'd used for research earlier to their respective shelves), he said in an almost exaggerated conspiratory tone, "Have you redecorated your apartment since the last time I was here?"

Rowena frowned, confused by the question. Confused by the secrets about/around it. "I have not."

Jack nodded, taking it in. "I just-I overheard Dean saying…"

Rowena sighed and grit her teeth. What nonsense was that neanderthal spewing now? She knew he didn't like witches (hated them even, not that he'd admit to it to her face. He knew better than that), that he didn't like _her._ He was an awfully angry man. A lit fuse ready to go off at any moment. A tease, though sometimes it was hard to tell where his joking ended and insults began.

"What?" It came out harsher than intended. Jack flinched, and Rowena put on a smile, a placating one. Disarming. Friendly.

"Well," Jack said, "he was wondering if your carpet matched your drapes."

Rowena froze. A vein in her forehead popped, red and angry. Her hands balled into first so tight her knuckles flashed bone-white. "Did he now?"

If looks could kill, the nephilim would have dropped dead right this instant.

He swallowed. "Sam wasn't happy with him." After a pause, he added, "For what it's worth, I also think it's rude to comment on other people's homes."

Of course he did. Because he was a good boy.

He was a good, innocent, pure boy.

A complete and utter contrast to the yokel raising him.

Rowena grabbed her bag — a giant black tote filled to the brim with magical ingredients and accessories — stalked over to Dean, heels clicking angrily against the floor, and swung with all her might. The bag struck the hunter across the back of his head with a thud that echoed throughout the Bunker, pleasant music to Rowena's ears.

The force of the attack sent the elder Winchester to his knees. Sam and Castiel jumped away, startled, bewildered eyes setting on Rowena.

"What the hell?" Dean demanded.

"If you must know," the witch spat, anger burning in her veins, magic pulsating like adrenaline, wild and unstable, "I don't have a bloody carpet!"

And then she whacked him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by miss-moon-guardian.


End file.
